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At the end of the day,
You’re left lying in your cold bed
All that warmth you felt ,
Evaporated into the mist of the night.  
You feel empty, and lost.
You can’t dream,
Because it’s for the fortunate,
You know your worth,
And you know what you can never be.
You smile, a sense of solitude
The lost hope,
A glimmering promise
Lost in the depths of the world,
The life that we call our own.
The place for crime, and forgiveness,
Of success, but mostly failure.  
You thrive in the thought of your world,
What’s become of you.  
You’re lost, among the glittering fireflies,
Losing your little self you called your own.
You try to battle it out, but you’re bound.  
You cry out, no one’s there. 
You think about your life, and the forbidden realm
You know it’s the end,
Petrified, you hurry to scream,
You’re voice straining to make yourself heard,
You’re life in a nutshell,
And as your voice starts to rise,
You realise, you’ve dreamt.  

-Srijita
Rosà Jan 2018
Do heavens really open;
And greet everyone with a smile
Or with a thunderous laughters
That may destroy humankind?

Will oceans depart
When worse become worst
And allow people
To pass the crossroads?
Or will it devour them to be buried underneath its hidden shelters

Where demons linger and abode?
Do you think it's worth believing
That your religion
Shields you from harm?
Or will you accept everyones beliefs to avoid
The destruction of the world you fond?
Questions that fulfilled my curiousity with more curiousity.
kenny Diamond Jun 2015
I am complex
A  heart torn apart but not broken
My kindness is my weakness
I always aim for change
I battle so much in my life
The tears burn my skin
I  dream of love in  a cold world
I am love or hate me but to love me is too see my soul
I am judged by many but many don't  see  the image which is me
I not from any other mold
i am coconut looking for  his tree
This is me a  nut shell stuck in this dream which is me
CM93 Mar 2015
I live in a shoebox all alone
It's the size of a nutshell I call it home
Here just me and my white walls talk
if they get too close I take a walk

A bed, a table, a chair, a sink
makes me happier than you would think
I took a chance on a crooked floor and  an un-open-able door
how could I ever ask for more.
  
So here I sit and write and to whoever that might read it
I hope you have a place just as magical as mine
and that you never want to leave it.
A little poem dedicated to my cute little single room!

— The End —